


Quiet

by TypingMonkey (purty64)



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Panic Attacks, Sensory Overload, more likely tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-11 01:58:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16466534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purty64/pseuds/TypingMonkey
Summary: Indrid can't get himself to clean his trailer, nor can he think when it's cluttered. It's hellish.





	Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> I, started writing this as nothing, but really it was about Indrid the entire time. Gonna be honest, this is me 100% projecting onto him, but also, Aubrey is damn near canon ADHD so it's fine <3

A small room. Cluttered, cramped, confining, close, close close close close closecloseclosecloseclo

 

Too. Too close. Too small. A shaking hand, outstretched, slowly pushing towards the end of the table. There. Breathing space.

Breathing. Breathing. Yes. A sharp gasp shook the room, chased around by the sounds of air pushing through a too tight throat. Breathing. Yes. You- I- we- can do that. Yes.

The room is still to small. Don't look, not yet. Breath. In, out. In, out. In-

Rapping, knocking, loud and sudden. A yelp, the thud of flesh and fabric on floor, a tentative voice from outside asking  _are you alright?_ Of course you're alright, you're breathing, aren't you? The door opens, and, yes, saying things aloud is usually recommended. Ah well. 

"Indrid?" Aubry creeps into the room, clearly nervous about something. "Hey, are you okay? Uh." Hm. She seems to have spotted- me. You? Priorities. Get up.

Muscles twitch, spasm, and really, you should get some new ones these muscles are no good they can't even get up correctly and now Aubrey is trying to help us up thanks a lot stupid muscles can't do anyhing not even with help we're still on the floor-

Aubrey's arms wrapped around Indrid, lifting him back onto the couch. He twitched again, then sucked on another breath. Then another, and another, until he was breaking regularly again.

"Better?" He's hesitated, then shook his head up and down, jerkily, clumsily nodding. Aubrey nodded once, then got up and went to the kitchen. 

The crinkle of cups. The soft, churging noise of liquid being poured from a jug or carton, then her footsteps. The table.

Suddenly flailing, Indrid wildly swung his arms at the coffee table next to him, knocking crumpled sketches and old plastic cups to the floor. With an aborted shout, Aubrey slammed the cups of eggnog she'd poured onto the nearest surface and ran over to Indrid, grabbing his arms and halting his frenzy. 

"Hey, woah, woah,  _woah,_ what was that?" She realized that his lips were moving, and listened, leaning closer. 

Air barely moving, he muttered, "gotta, gotta, gotta, keep it clean, keep it clean, keep it clean, keep it clean..." Over. And over. Aubrey put his hands in his lap, and listened to his whispered prayer, incantation, distress signal, then, after a moment, got up. And tidied the table, and the floor, and the couches (careful not the disturb Indrid) and the kitchen and the rest of the trailer. At some point he'd curled in on himself,  but his lips never stopped moving.

When she was done, she carefully grabbed the two cups of eggnog she'd poured earlier, and sat down on the other side of the he couch. She placed one cup in front of Indrid, keeping hold of the other. And waited.

If Indrid had been in a better state of mind, he may have noticed how long Aubrey had been quiet for. She hadn't said a word since he'd started his chant, an uncharacteristic length of time for her to stay silent for. As it stood, he was rocking slightly, and it took all of his willpower to even consider looking around himself.

Eventually, he did. Peeking out from about his knees, he saw his clean trailer, a cup of eggnog, and Aubrey, silently sitting and staring into her cup. He looked back, unmoving, to his own cup, still sitting on the coffe table in front of him. Slowly, he reached out a hand, gently raised it to his mouth and took a drink.

He put the now half full cup back on the table, and still curled up against the armrest, whispered, "thank you."

Aubrey turned her head to look at him, then smiled. "Don't worry about it," she said brightly. "I get like that sometimes, too." 

The edges of Indrid's mouth curled up in what could generously be called a smile, and thought to himself that the room didn't feel so small anymore. 


End file.
